A Monkey Tale
by Silverbellsb
Summary: What do you get when you put a monkey, a thief, a roomful of thugs, some cupcakes, and a whole bottle of extra-fine pepper all together? Instant chaos!


**Hello!**

**Let me just say right off the bat that I wrote this because I had absolutely nothing to do. :-} This one-shot might seem a bit juvenile, but that's 'cause I was in a silly mood, so this fic will be really silly. It'll probably be kind of unrealistic, too, but oh well.**

**This is partly based off a game I was playing with my cousin about three years ago. My stuffed bunny was being held prisoner by a giant (my cousin), who made up two billion rules for the dungeon dwellers. Number one was no blinking, number two was no smiling, number three was no talking... et cetera, et cetera. The biggest rule was no sneezing, but the giant had sprinkled (imaginary) pepper everywhere. I made my bunny sneeze, and the giant was like, NO SNEEZING, but with all the pepper around... yeah. It was pretty funny, especially when my cousin pretended to stuff a bottle of pepper up the bunny's nose and when the giant sneezed. XD**

**So yeah, you know I'm nuts already. Criticism is much appreciated. **

**Tell me what you think!**

**O*O*O**

One of the regulars at the Snuggly Duckling is an animal lover and avid pet collector. This thug – Cuthbert, he's called – not only adores all animals, but feels that he has to make a pet out of every animal that exists in the natural world. He not only has "normal" animals, such as dogs and cats and cows, but he also imports creatures from every corner of the world, like llamas and tapirs and mountain goats with dangerous-looking horns. And that's just the tip of the iceberg; he also owns rats, moles, deer, parrots, squirrels... any animal that is commonly known, and even some that aren't.

Nobody is really sure where Cuthbert keeps his animals, but they don't bother to ask. The thug himself is rather unsettling to be around. A tangled mass of hair covers most of his face, giving him the appearance of a shaggy sheepdog, and he is short and stocky and looks as though he could break your arm just by poking it. To top it off, an evil-looking ferret is always perched on his shoulder, staring for uncomfortably long periods of time at people with its glittering black eyes.

Cuthbert owns a lot of animals, true, but his motto is "the more the merrier", so one day he decides to get a monkey. The monkey comes from someplace called Agrabah, and the merchant who sold Cuthbert the little creature commented through a letter that they have an abundance of monkeys in their kingdom, and that they get a little out of control sometimes. In fact, they are common nuisances. But Cuthbert waves off the merchant's warnings about monkeys raiding food stalls and dancing on rooftops, and after an eternal wait (it takes time for transcontinental deliveries to get from Point A to Point B, after all) an intricately carved iron cage arrives at his door.

Cuthbert is so pleased by his monkey – he's still trying to come up with a meaningful name for it – that he decides to show his new pet off to everyone who has eyes to marvel, and the first people who come to his mind are the Snuggly Duckling Pub thugs. And that is his big mistake.

**{=/.\I/.\=}**

Never judge a book by its cover.

Sadly, not many have heeded this advice and have walked into the Snuggly Duckling under the assumption that it is some happy-sunshine little place. Such an idea could not be further from the truth. Despite its cute and cuddly name, the Snuggly Duckling is downright dangerous, deranged, and deadly – or at least, the thugs who regularly stop by are.

When Cuthbert lugs his cloth-draped monkey cage (dozing monkey included), he finds that he has stepped right into the middle of an argument. As Cuthbert possesses an interest for testosterone-induced competition (as all men do), he carelessly sets his cage down in a corner and joins the small crowd that has gathered around two thugs; specifically, Hookhand and Big Nose. They are arguing about which is more destructive, a fist or a hook. Naturally, Hookhand feels certain that a hook is more effective at causing physical damage.

"This thing could lop off the head of a man," he claims, flashing his hook-hand in the air.

"But someone could easily pull it off with a fist," Big Nose argues. He lunges across the table and makes a grab at the hook, but Hookhand jerks back.

"Watch it, or your head'll be next!" Hookhand slices the contraption through the air, and it gleams in the torchlight. It may be early afternoon, but inside the pub it's always fairly dim.

This sort of argument goes back and forth for a while.

"Hook!"

"Fist!"

"Hook!"

"Fist!"

"HOOK!"

"FIST!"

"HOOK!"

"FIST!" bellows Big Nose, whose self-control has evaporated. He takes a swing at Hookhand's head, but the thug dodges. The punch lands another man hard on the shoulder. He squawks and jabs blindly at someone with his tankard full of frothy beer. That someone tackles him, and so on and so forth. A fight breaks out, as is the norm in the Snuggly Duckling Pub.

Once a fight starts, especially a brawl between half-drunk lugs with big fists, it's almost impossible to stay out of it. Within moments tankards are flying, chairs splinter, and barrels of who knows what explode as heavy objects (specifically people) fall on top of them. Most of the thugs, in an effort to prove that they are not pansies, join the fray, even though they have no idea whatsoever what the fight is about. Cuthbert is one of them, his monkey (and its safety) entirely forgotten.

One of the men who do not feel that they have to take part in this free-for-all is Flynn Rider. Flynn is not a regular, nor does he like the taste of alcohol. The only reason he is at all near this unforgiving, downright deranged place is for the entertainment. However, a fist-cracking-head-butting brawl is NOT what he anticipated. Flynn is a smallish guy, not at all the fighting type. His specialty lies in the art of escape, though even an expert the likes of him will have a hard time getting through a pub full of fighting thugs twice his size without being punched at least a hundred times. He is not interested in having his head bashed in, thank you very much.

He ducks under a table to avoid a sack of potatoes that's been hefted through the air.

Flynn is strong, sort of, but he'll need superhuman strength to best one of these guys. He's got good looks, but good looks can only take you so far. Besides, his charmingly flirty grin and big, pleading eyes only work on women. One thing to know about the Snuggly Duckling regulars is that they are practically boulders. Anything short of breaking your head is fine by them. Even the smallest of them can snap Flynn like a twig.

Wood splinters. Beer sloshes. Someone heavy treads on Flynn's foot. Someone else hits him in the back, and he flies forward and crashes to the floor. He scrambles to avoid getting his fingers trampled. After pulling himself to his feet, he grabs a large bottle of pepper, hoping he can defend himself with this measly little weapon.

And then –

A chattering sound. A thump and a weight on Flynn's head and shoulders. A pair of hands combing through his chestnut-brown hair, searching delicately for lice.

This is extremely offending, as Flynn prides himself on hair care.

Flynn yelps. "ACK!" He jumps, and the mayhem around him stops out of curiosity. The monkey (who else?) is not bothered by the sudden decrease in noise and calmly continues to smooth Flynn's hair. Needless to say, Flynn is quite shocked. He reaches up and tries to dislodge the little creature. Perhaps the monkey is disappointed at having its services rejected, for it frowns disapprovingly at Flynn and stalks off in a huff. All eyes follow it as it climbs up one of the posts that hold up the ceiling.

Two things happen in the next second. The first is Attila, who walks out of the pub kitchen holding a tray of his sublime chocolate cupcakes with strawberry-pink frosting. The second is that the monkey leaps off the post and onto the counter. Now, Attila prides himself on his sublime chocolate cupcakes with strawberry-pink frosting. They are his life, his joy, the most lovingly crafted cupcakes in all the world. Though he will never admit doing such a thing, he sings to them as they rise into lovely brown domes in the oven. He makes sure that each cupcake has exactly the same amount of frosting smoothed over it, and he spends hours making sure the cherries all sit straight on top.

So when he sees the monkey leaping at him, naturally he is startled and drops the tray of his precious cupcakes. The tray and its passengers safely clatter onto the counter, albeit a bit smushed, but otherwise perfectly fine. The monkey, however, thinks the cupcakes smell better than any banana he's ever eaten in his life, and decides that these delicacies have been crafted specifically for the monkey's taste. It chatters, pleased, and charges right past a shocked Attila toward the sublime chocolate cupcakes with strawberry-pink frosting.

This breaks the trance in the room and sends everyone into a frenzy.

"Did'ja see that?"

"What is it?"

"Dunno, it looks like a squirrel t'me."

"Don't be daft, it's a porcupine!"

"Vladimir, you are _such_ a cretin. That thing's no porcupine, it's an _aardvark."_

"What's an aardvark?"

The thugs have forgotten, apparently, that the monkey is still right within this very room and that it is still terrorizing Attila. And that Attila is responding by having a panic attack.

"Help! Help!" he yells as the monkey plucks the cherries off the cupcakes and devours them. "Help me!" He cowers on the floor, watching helplessly as the monkey greedily makes a meal out of his pride and joy.

Attila's pleas penetrate to Flynn, who up until now has been in shock because of the head-grooming experience. Now, Flynn Rider, the greatest thief for miles around, could not care less about cupcakes, even though he possesses a secret fondness for the chocolate kind. But Attila's wails are enough to break anyone's heart.

"My frosting! My cupcakes! My reputation!" sobs Attila.

But Flynn has not learned how to become intimidating for nothing. Granted, he doesn't need to seem dangerous if half the time he's running from people, but he's put on the act enough times to know that it works effectively on people of all shapes and sizes. Even though, technically speaking, the monkey is not a person.

Flynn marches up to the counter, where the monkey is helping itself to a cupcake. "Hey, you!" he says in his best imitation of either one of the Stabbington brothers (his partners in crime whom he's lost track of for the moment) being bossy. "What do you think you're doing? Scram before I turn you into a fur coat and sell you to the queen."

The queen of Corona would never buy a fur coat, but the monkey doesn't need to know that. However, Flynn's speech has little effect. The monkey does, however, look up and stare at Flynn. It stares and stares and stares.

Flynn imagines that it is in awe.

Unfortunately, it goes right back to feasting on cupcakes.

Flynn, annoyed by the lack of response, glares at the monkey.

The monkey glares right back.

Flynn, painfully aware that all eyes in the pub are fixed on him, is startled by the monkey's nerve and moves forward, intent on somehow getting the creature off the counter and preferably out of the pub.

The monkey chatters at Flynn. It does not know that it is supposed to be afraid of a common street thief. Flynn is insulted, as most people (not including thugs; they're boulder, not people) scatter whenever they see him. But this furry animal that is a fourth of his size puts up a challenge.

The monkey offers Flynn a cupcake. Flynn is so surprised that he sets his bottle of pepper (which he is still holding) down on the counter and takes the cupcake. In a flash, the monkey grabs the bottle, unscrews it with quick little fingers, and shakes it with all its might. Fine pepper flies everywhere, and the monkey begins to sneeze. Now, pepper, especially Attila's fine-ground pepper from far-off lands, is a powerful thing, especially in large quantities. The pepper that flies out of the bottle is not a large quantity; it is an enormous quantity. The monkey sneezes and sneezes from all that pepper. It sneezes so had that it sneezes itself right out the door, and down the hill as well. It goes off to relay the message to any other living creature that might listen to stay away from the Snuggly Duckling forever.

"Aa-choo! Thank-choo!" sneezes Attila, who has been reduced to actually thanking people after the monkey attack.

"Forget it." Flynn puffs up with pride, as the thugs are all staring at him with reverence.

But Cuthbert stomps up to Flynn. "You owe me a new monkey."

**-/-']['-\-**

Somewhere far away, however, the monkey is not finished causing trouble.

"AAAAAAAAHH!" Rapunzel screams as a furry little creature barrels in through her tower window and proceeds to tear about the place, chattering noisily and leaping onto the kitchen counters. It grabs bottle after bottle of pepper and chucks them out the window.

"EEEEK!" Rapunzel shrieks. "MOTHERRR!"

_THE END_

**/:(*):\**

**So concludes this epic, nutty, and extremely unrealistic of a thief, a monkey, and a tray of cupcakes. I know what you're thinking: "THIS STORY IS EVEN MORE UNRALISTIC THAN **_**WANTED: SKILLED ARTIST**_**! SILVERBELLS, YOU GOOF!"**

**Hee hee. :-} Okay, for starters, I do know that ordering a monkey from Agrabah, which is in Asia/Middle East and getting it shipped to Corona, which** **is in Europe, probably – is completely unrealistic. But hey, how else was Cuthbert supposed to get his hands on a monkey? XD Oh, and just so you know, the monkey isn't Abu. ^.^ **

**Plus, there is very little dialogue... did I drag it out too long? And the ending kind of bugs me, it seems kinda abrupt. :-/ And the style is extremely below my level, I know... but I was just in a nutty mood, so yeah. :)**

**I hope you enjoyed reading this, though!**

**Read and review!**

**Peace, love, and Pascals,**

**Silverbells**


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